Everyone can see how black your soul iswhen you laugh. It’s in the teeth,the residue of every sin you’ve ever spentresting darkly in the apertures.You always wanted to be something morethan a stack of dental bills weakening a drawer.

You say you haven’t had a scream in a long time,that screaming helps to rationalise the silence.

You keep your hair smooth and your lashes curledin case the galaxy knocks at your doorasking to make a star of you.The only catch is that one day,light years from now, you will explode.

“Classic me,” you’ll say as you expand,as though you are a white bed sheetbillowing on the washing lineand the universe is a child caughtin your suffocating glow.

Marianne MacRae is working towards a Creative Writing PhD at University of Edinburgh. She says: 'I’m an Edinburgh-based poet with a penchant for animals in poetry, particularly those that speak. I like to experiment with character and voice throughout my work, tending towards humour and misdirection to (hopefully!) keep the reader entertained. I draw a lot of inspiration from visual media and enjoy imagining lives for people I don’t necessarily know … and I mean that in the least creepy way possible.'